


flawlessly

by faithfullyfrances



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Family, Friendship, everyone misses val, sister frances is amazing, supportive colleagues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfullyfrances/pseuds/faithfullyfrances
Summary: With Nurse Dyer gone, there's a growing emptiness at Nonnatus House. Everyone feels her absence and it prompts some overdue conversations and acknowledgements. Apologies and affirmations may ensue.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	flawlessly

**Author's Note:**

> hi :) i haven't written for a fairly long time, but i got this idea and thought i'd give it a go. hopefully it makes for an enjoyable read! maybe let me know if you liked it :)

“District rota for you this morning, Nurse Franklin.”

A look of surprise. It was only to be expected. 

“I know it's not ideal to send you alone, but with Nurse Dyer on leave indefinitely we’re all going to be feeling the extra hours.”

A collective pause, as everyone glanced briefly at the space where Nurse Dyer usually stood.

“Of course Nurse Crane,” replied the blonde, as she packed her instruments a little too quickly. “I’ve no objection to covering a few of Valerie’s patients, if nothing else, it’ll give me an _excellent_ work out going up and down those tower block steps.”

Despite her jovial nature, you couldn't miss the sad sigh that escaped Trixie, as soon as Phyllis moved her attention to the next name on her list. 

She was tired. It was always more difficult to sleep when there was an empty bed next to yours. She'd come to learn that over the years. 

Even so, it was brave faces all around. At least until Valerie came home. 

Though God knows how long that would be. 

Phyllis gave a small but understanding nod, she knew that Trixie would talk when she was ready. 

-

Soft chatter could be heard over the quiet murmurs of the wireless. Normally it was switched off during the delivery of morning orders, but it was already eerily quiet without Valerie, and the hum of the radio helped to distract from her absence. 

A less than elegant snort was usually erupting to Nurse Crane's left, as she stifled an explosive giggle that she knew would cause the other midwives to collapse into laughter too. Lucille and Trixie were normally grinning from ear to ear, cheered by their colleague’s natural lightheartedness. 

That hadn't been the case for months now, and Val hadn't been there at all for weeks. Everyone felt her disappearance, and they were clinging to her promise of an eventual return like a security blanket. 

And they had to keep busy. Busy, busy, busy. 

Watching as each midwife packed their respective bags, Phyllis felt a familiar heartache. The heartache that every mother hen feels when one of her chicks is in pain. 

She sees Lucille nudge Trixie’s shoulder, a few whispered words that were probably some attempt at cheering her up. A forced smile. 

The two of them would manage, keeping each other upright. They needed the third member of their trio back for different reasons. But they both needed _her_. 

-

The rest of the morning's assignments were received without any significant problems. Sister Hilda was heading up to the maternity home to assist Nurse Turner, while Lucille worked her way through a (thankfully short) ante-natal round. Nurse Crane herself was planning on tackling the postnatal list. Sisters Frances and Julienne were first and second on call respectively.

It was all frightfully organised. 

-

Nurse Crane listened for the dull clang of the autoclave. The dropping of instruments or a hiss of pain from touching the burning hot equipment. They didn't come. 

She couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for expecting it, as she glanced at the young nun to her right. Her eyes transfixed on her task, determination etched upon her face. 

A fortnight before, she had proudly announced that she could do this job with her eyes closed now. Maybe a few words of encouragement would’ve been more appropriate, more professional than the curt remark about how long it had taken the poor kid to get the hang of it. 

Shaking off this doubt, Phyllis looked away and busied herself with the adjustment of her uniform. Nothing worse than an unkempt nurse, a sentiment that she and the long departed Nurse Mount had shared.

“One set of instruments fresh and ready to go Nurse Anderson,” smiled Sister Frances. It was the sort of smile that one used when looking for approval, a hopeful smile. 

A quick ‘thank you’ from Lucille. She didn't even meet the Sister’s eyes. 

Much the same from Sister Hilda, she was in a hurry this morning. There were two mothers in the early stages of labour at the maternity home and she was only too eager to offer her support. 

“Ah thank you,” the elder Sister murmured. She didn't even try to hide that she was inspecting the instruments that she was handed. Squinting and peering under the harsh light of the clinical room. Not quite trusting Sister Frances’ judgement. 

The look on Sister Frances’ face was difficult to decipher. She didn't have it in her to be indignant, no, she just looked hurt. 

Biting her lip, and flushing uncomfortably under Sister Hilda’s scrutiny, she turned away under the pretence of checking the contents of the dressings cabinet. 

This would've been a strategic choice, if the cabinet hadn't been glass. And therefore reflective. 

Phyllis couldn't help but feel pained, as Sister Frances’ mouth moved silently in the cabinet door’s reflection. Small words. Soundless. Maybe she was praying, but then her wooden crucifix was just hanging limply, not in harness as was usual when one of the nun’s fancied a spot of spontaneous prayer. 

No. These were words of reassurance. Of calming. It couldn't be right that she was having to be this for herself. In a house full of kind and gentle souls, this person, this child, felt so alone that she was having to be her own support system. 

-

Phyllis watched from the head of the table in the clinical room, as her colleagues filed out. Snapping their navy bags shut and leaving with just a nod of acknowledgement. Scarves and capes pulled on tightly, as they braced themselves for the April chill. 

The clinical room was cold, with no close friendships or inside jokes to stoke the metaphorical fire. 

Flicking through the esteemed Rolodex, Phyllis had a pencil gripped between her teeth, a habit that she criticised the junior midwives for, but one that she was often guilty of herself. 

Barbara had been a regular offender. Trying to balance a patient's notes, a less than ideal set of results and a (less than discreet) packet of sweets. She did always have a sweet tooth. Trixie had teased her about it, but seeing the wholesome smile on Barbara’s face when enjoying a sneaky bon bon had been nothing if not adorable. 

Had been. 

Past tense. 

It was still too painful to think about, those months of uncertainty that had ended in tragedy. 

And Barbara was still everywhere in Nonnatus House. 

She was the warmth in the living room, the mountain of Easter bonnets that Tom had left behind in the store cupboard. She was the cardigan that Nurse Franklin hadn't slept more than a metre away from since it was passed on to her. 

Barbara would’ve liked it that way. 

Remembered, always close to her dearest friends. 

-

The footsteps down the corridor faded, and Phyllis heard the creak of the front door, followed swiftly by a sharp thud as it was closed. 

Keeping the April chill at bay. 

-

Phyllis lingered behind, instinct drawing her gaze back to the young girl facing the cabinet. She was counting the same dressings over and over again, picking them up and placing them down again repeatedly - anything to keep her focus away from other matters.

The elder of the two women, gently put the pencil back into its usual spot beside the Rolodex. She cleared her throat, breaking the unnatural silence.

“I trust that our supplies are plentiful Sister? No unaccounted absences on the medical resource front I hope,” questioned Phyllis lightly, as she attempted to prompt a conversation.

“Oh, yes. All present and correct Nurse Crane,” she replied dutifully, turning around and offering an honest smile.

She was always so keen to please, giving the answers that she knew were expected. Never one to draw attention to herself or create problems, a blessing really in their hectic vocation.

But she’d been oddly subdued lately, and the crestfallen look that had appeared on her face not five minutes ago was weighing heavy on Phyllis’ mind. 

“Excellent stuff, I do love an impromptu stock take.”

A nod of agreement, followed by a return to that same withdrawn look from before, as she shrunk back into herself. She made to go back to a trivial task, away from Phyllis’ visibly concerned gaze.

“I’m just going to-”

“I’m not one to pry kid,” interjected Phyllis. “But is everything okay? You’ve seemed very quiet lately, quieter than usual. And I’d hate to think that something’s the matter and you’re keeping it bottled up.”

Phyllis watched as the young nun fumbled with her hands, fiddling with the small silver band on her finger.

“Well, it’s just. Nothing, really. I’ve just been a little tired is all.”

She was a hopeless liar, and she flushed red under Phyllis’ continued study of her body language.

A moment later, she cracked.

“It’s just… strange without Nurse Dyer,” mumbled Sister Frances, almost inaudible.

“Ah,” replied Phyllis, her thick accent was heavy with understanding.

She had watched their absent colleague take Sister Frances under her wing, guiding her through cobbled streets and helping her to adjust to life in Poplar. She thought back to the kind words and reassuring smiles that they’d shared, as Nurse Dyer had encouraged her younger friend to gradually come out of her shell, little by little. 

It had been Nurse Dyer who had patiently taught her the best way to handle the temperamental autoclave. Dressing the slight burns that came with the unfamiliarity of handling the hot instruments, and grinning proudly when she managed the job flawlessly on her own.

The Sister smiled sadly, clearly reminiscing about the same shared moments of happiness. The way that Valerie had brightened the mornings with her easy charm, and the genuine gratitude that was expressed at the handing over of perfectly cleaned equipment.

It was so very different now, so much quieter. Lonelier.

“Nurse Dyer was,” she paused, sighing as her use of the past tense caused the young girl in front of her to wince. “Is a big part of this team, and _you_ know she said that she’s coming back _when_ she’s ready.”

“I know,” said Sister Frances, about as blunt as she had ever been. 

This had practically become Nurse Crane’s catchphrase over the past few weeks, ‘stop moping girls, she’ll come home soon’. But it had lost its soothing quality some time ago, and the clinical room was beginning to feel especially empty, particularly on days like today. When there was an unfortunate tension in the air.

“I just miss her, and I know everyone’s struggling right now, but-,” she floundered. “I’m still not as experienced as I should be, and without Valerie I know you’re a midwife down. You all, and our patients, you need an extra pair of hands but I’m just -”

“What?” 

“A dead leg.”

-

Phyllis froze.

Guilt seeping through her veins, as she remembered how she’d expressed her displeasure at Sister Frances’ arrival to the convent. Months ago. The harsh metaphor that had dismissed any qualifications that the young girl had. Talking about her like she was but a child, naive and fatally immature.

-

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

This was new territory for Sister Frances, and she wasn’t sure where this was going to go. The words had been weighing on her mind for months, ringing in her ears and only exacerbating her insecurities. 

“It’s fine,” the young nun swallowed. “I know I’m not particularly useful. But I’m trying to get better, really I am Nurse Crane,” the eagerness to impress was evident in her tone. Her eyes drifted down, as though making eye contact may be the final straw for an emotional outpour.

“Oh lass, no. No.”

“You don’t have to lie Nurse Crane, I’m a big girl okay. I can take it.”

It was a sharp blow, to see that she really believed this. Believed that she was somehow less than her colleagues. Believed that she was ‘a dead leg’. 

God they could use one of Nurse Dyer’s soothing smiles right now.

-

“I didn’t know that you’d heard that.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I swear, I was just walking back from chapel and sort of accidentally heard your conversation.”

“Even if you were, I could hardly blame you. It was rash and thoughtless to talk like that,” said Phyllis softly, walking around the table to stand beside the nun. “These past few months have been a challenge for everyone, and I’ve rather had to eat my words.”

Sister Frances was still looking away, unsure about the meaning of Nurse Crane's words. 

“And you can take that doubtful look off your face because I mean what I’m saying. You’ve proved just how capable you are, and both Sister Julienne and I are really impressed with how far you’ve come.”

“You really don’t have to say-”

“I’m not just saying it lass. We’re all extremely proud of you, and I know for a fact that Nurse Dyer was too.”

A faint smile at the mention of that name. 

“You really mean that?” she asked, that familiar hopeful smile reappearing. It made a change, to see her eyes shining with reassurance, rather than fear. 

Phyllis nodded, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder in a way of showing her sincerity. 

“I really do kid, and if I didn't say it before then I’m sorry. You're a wonderful nurse _and_ you've managed to show that autoclave who's in charge.”

A stifled giggle. 

“I think Nurse Dyer gets some of the credit for that,” grinned Sister Frances, humble as ever. “She must've spent hours teaching me the knack to it. And she never got annoyed when I dropped things, just smiled and said we’d keep going until I had the technique down.”

“She's a good ‘un, that's for sure,” agreed Phyllis. “But it's you that kept at it, and good on you.”

-

The weight on Phyllis’ chest eased slightly, as she watched some of the tension in Sister Frances’ face disappear. A quiet confidence dancing across her features, as she tried to accept the praise.

Suddenly Sister Frances looked taller. Was it the overdue acknowledgement of her valuable efforts and abilities? Or was it that Phyllis had finally stopped seeing her as just a kid. Viewing her as the strong young woman that she'd blossomed into whilst living at Nonnatus.

They valued the staff greatly, and felt their pain almost as deeply as they did themselves whenever tragedy struck. Communicating was important, critical even. It kept the magic of their found family alive, and fought any self doubt that had been allowed to grow in the shadows. 

The years that Nurse Crane had spent in Poplar had shown her as much.

-  
-  
-

“Do you really believe that she’ll come back, Nurse Crane?” 

The Sister’s concern for Valerie’s safety, and for the legitimacy of her eventual promised return, was evident.

“I’m not in a position to make promises lass. You know that,” the elder nurse paused - watching and wondering what her colleague was thinking. “But I’ve watched countless people move in and out of this building over the years. And they never disappear completely, it was only last week that Nurse Franklin heard from an old friend who used to work here. In fact if you were allowed to gamble, I’d tell you to put money on a letter coming any day now.”

Sister Frances nods, accepting Nurse Crane’s words as the truth. She didn’t sugar-coat her words, ever. 

“And if we don’t hear from her soon, then you could always write. Sister Julienne has an updated address, and I’m sure Nurse Dyer would be glad to hear from a friend.”

“She’d probably rather hear from one of the others,” said the nun, though she was clearly considering it. 

“I think she’d like to hear from _you_ ,” countered Phyllis. Silently wishing that she’d restrained her language all that time ago, maybe then this timid girl would be slightly more confident.

“Well um, Nurse Crane, if you think it’d be alright then maybe I will.”

“Good, and remember what I said before. You’re an important part of this team, and what you have to say and what you do, it matters. A lot.”

It was the affirmation that she needed. To quieten the ever present feelings of inferiority, and to replace her anxious complexion with a genuine look of contentment.

-

Five minutes and the consumption of two barley sugars later, Nurse Crane departed the convent. Postnatal list folded up securely in her uniform pocket. She left with a squeaky clean set of equipment, and a renewed faith in her young colleague’s stability.

She had left Sister Frances sitting patiently by the telephone, pen poised as she began to draft a letter. A letter which Phyllis suspected would be a much needed outlet for all of the emotion that the young girl had clearly been repressing for quite some time.

Phyllis made a mental note to have a word with Sister Hilda, to remind her that Sister Frances needed their support, not their unfounded suspicion. Maybe a combined effort to uplift her professionally as well as spiritually, could make up for the tumultuous past few months. And the unfortunate criticisms that had been stalking the young nun’s sense of self for an ungodly amount of time. 

If it meant the enduring of uncomfortable conversations, then it’d be worth it. If it meant seeing that smile of security more often, then Phyllis was prepared to take on any number of difficult discussions.

This workplace couldn’t fall apart. Phyllis wouldn’t let it. Not now, with their numbers so sorely depleted and emotions so very high.

No, they would stay strong. Keep each other upright. 

Nonnatus was special, and the people who lived there even more so. Phyllis swore there and then, to keep a more watchful eye on all of the young women that made their work possible, and to more regularly acknowledge their achievements.

Her navy bag swung steadily at her side, the slight clang of fresh instruments boasted of Sister Frances’ own achievement. Equipment cleaned, bagged up and sent off with some degree of pride. 

Flawlessly done.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this let me know! (please be gentle though aha because as i say this is the first fic i've finished in Ages and i'm a little nervous to post it:) <3


End file.
